


Mitigating Circumstances

by dustandroses



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Author's Favorite, Established Relationship, Frottage, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a rough few week, and all Jack O'Neill can think at this point is, "What the hell does it take to get laid around this place?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mitigating Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Slashygood.

It wasn't much, but at the moment, it was all they had. All they could have. Hard and bittersweet and over far too soon. But not soon enough for jittery nerves and an anxious Colonel. It was against the rules. Their rules, not the ones imposed on them by outside forces. Definitely influenced by those, of course, but none the less - it was their own precept, and they hated to abandon it, even if only temporarily.

But they needed this. Badly enough to break the rules - just this once.

There were "Mitigating Circumstances." Great phrase, that. "Mitigating Circumstances." He felt like a lawyer. His linguist would love that. He decided to save that one until later - no noise right now. They could only lie patiently, waiting for the next perimeter check. So they lay there, quietly; soft even breathing in the bag next to his. Waiting for their chance to break the rules. Just this once.

"Mitigating Circumstances." Even in his mind, the words came with capitals. "Majorly Mitigating Circumstances." And if they got caught, they'd be his only words. But they wouldn't get caught. He knew what to do, and how to do it. All those years of subterfuge and clandestine operations came in handy for something, huh? All that training, just to learn how to break the rules. He smiled at that and listened to the marine on duty making his rounds on the other side of their tent, steam hissing as he threw the grounds of his coffee on the fire and started a new pot.

Heavy sigh from the other sleeping bag. He reached his arm out to rub a shoulder - patience, it won't be long now. A hand touches his in the dark, interlocking fingers pulling his hand onto a well-muscled chest. He can feel the beat of his heart through the thin fabric. Patience. It won't be long.

It's been far too long already. Separations happened, you expected it - what with the nature of their work. Two weeks on an archeological dig on P35-mumbledy-peg for Daniel, while the rest of the team trained a batch of new recruits half way across the galaxy. Jar heads and civilians on a three week training mission from hell. He was ready to kill them all after two days. Thank goodness for Teal'c and Carter - Teal'c could keep the Marines in line with just a look. And Carter tried her best to help with the civilians. But he needed Daniel to really keep the civilians in line, and instead, he got substitutes and excuses - they needed their Head Archeologist and occasional Diplomat elsewhere, of course. Of course.

Week three should have brought them together, well as close as you could get with a campsite full of idiots and jar heads - oh, wait...wasn't he being redundant, there? It could have been worse, he thought grudgingly; the new marines were mostly fairly sharp and actually used their minds well when challenged - a step up from their usual fare. The standards were finally being adhered to with regards to the new military recruits. Now if they could just pick their scientists for their common sense, he might actually have a chance at surviving this whole fiasco and retiring while there was still something left of these old bones besides arthritis.

He sighed and shifted farther onto his side, listening to the steady sounds of footsteps outside the tent and regular breathing inside. Daniel has drifted off. That's ok, it'll be a while yet before there's time for any hanky-panky. He laughed softly at that one. He'd had lots of plans for that last week of the training mission. He'd found a perfect site for a little of the old h-p, but negotiations for a treaty had broken down on P63-774 (the planet where they served that purple and green mixture that looked like mashed potatoes and gave his team the runs for three days. Oh yeah, he remembered that one - nothing like neon pink diarrhea to sharpen your memory.) If he'd had his druthers, they'd lock P63-774 out of the dialing sequence permanently. But no, they needed Daniel's language and people skills to get the talks back on track - so he'd packed up a weeks worth of MRE's and braved the vegetation for the chance to mine a bit of naquadah.

From there, they'd met up on base for just a few hours before they ran straight to that weird rescue mission from The Twilight Zone - to that planet with all the trees - PTR-EES, or whatever it was called. Most of SG-3 had been overdue for 24 hours and SG-1 had led the three team Search and Rescue mission that had taken on all the aspects of a twisted fairy tale within minutes of stepping through the Gate. Wandering lost in the woods for 3 days, surrounded by trees of all sizes in that constant low light that made it seem like it was always dusk, Jack had thought more than once that if he never saw another tree again it would be far too soon for him.

They couldn't even launch a UAV - poor Carter was devastated. As soon as it flew through the gate, it crashed into the 300 foot high, 150 foot round monsters posing as trees that totally surrounded the gate on all sides, then fell into the tops of the smaller trees that grew like weeds all around the huge ones. They'd found the missing members of SG-3 wandering around in circles, their compasses completely useless in the magnetically charged trees that surrounded them. Trusting Teal'c's excellent sense of direction, they had finally made it back to the `Gate with Jack mumbling about Gingerbread Houses and trails of bread crumbs the whole way.

At least they'd been on the same planet for a couple of days, but aside from the vicarious thrill of getting to watch Daniel take a piss, there'd been no opportunities for more than a chaste touch or two. After the first three times they'd had to go after a wandering team-member who lost their way back from a pit stop, no one went anywhere out of sight of the entire team. Embarrassing perhaps, but essential to keeping the group together. After the fifth time Lt. Basson wandered off in less than 30 minutes, Jack considered putting a leash on him, but in the end they all made it back, and he hadn't had to tie anyone to his camos.

But he'd been ready to tie those same camos around the neck of the idiot from the Pentagon who insisted that they head right back out, not barely even time for a briefing, shower and a shave, straight into the waiting arms of the locals of P94-upyourass who stuck them in separate holding cells, awaiting Our Lord Whosit's Jaffa to arrive and cart them off to their doom. Sorry guys, looks like we're not getting any advanced weaponry from this bunch of idiots...where'd you get that "intelligence" from? Or am I using that term too loosely?

Two weeks in that filthy, cold, rock-lined cell, waiting for Their Lord Fucksit to do something - anything - at this point. Just get them out of those freakin' cells! Fortunately, their captors didn't know squat about interrogation and had absolutely no stomach for torture, so for the most part the four of them sat staring at each other through the rusty bars of their cells, playing I Spy...

"...with my little eye, something that begins with the letter "S."

"Stone! Sorry, Teal'c, but we've already used that one about 50 times now. How about a new game?"

"What do you have in mind, O'Neill?"

"I dunno, let me think about it, ok?"

Sigh. Squirm a little on the hard, cold stone bench that pretends to substitute for a bed. Scratch his butt. Oh, looks like he's got something....

"Hey Carter - take a letter."

"Sir, we don't have any paper or anything to write with."

"Yeah well, take a letter, anyway. (Ahem.) Dear Fuckwads, uh, sorry, I meant Joint Chiefs of Staff, there. Fix that, will ya, Carter?"

"Yes, sir, it's fixed."

"Great, great. Ready to go on? Ok. Here we go. Dear Joint Idiots of Staff Infection or whatever (mumble, mumble, mumble), while we really all appreciate the thoughtfulness of sending SG-1 on a two week, all expense paid vacation to the lovely resort spa you have no doubt hand-picked just for us; I think I speak for my fellow team members as well as myself, when I say that delightful as this trip has been, we feel totally revitalized at this point, and are ready to take on the universe once again. So it is with the utmost sincerity that I must insist, we really don't need any more down time right now, and would love for you to consider GETTING US THE HELL OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!! (Pause.) Uh, sorry Carter, I think I got a little bit carried away on that last sentence, can you fix that up for me? Make it presentable - you know what to do."

"I'll take care of that for you sir, don't worry."

"Thanks, Carter, knew I could count of you. You know the rest...best regards, yadda yadda, yadda...Colonel Jack O'Neill, SG-1 (mumble, mumble, mumble...) Whadda you think? Not too "effluent" or anything, huh? I don't want them to think we worked on it too hard. It should come from the gut, ya know?"

"Effluent, Jack? Nice word."

"Hey, Daniel, I know some nice words. I can read the dictionary." Not like he studies it or anything to try and impress a certain linguist, but it comes in handy every once in a while to sneak in a little gem of a word. Keeps Daniel a little off balance, ya know? How do you seduce a linguist? Learn how to use the language. So maybe he checks out the Word of the Day on Merriam-Webster Online from time to time - ok, so maybe every day, alright?

FLASHBACK to a month and a half ago:

Jack sitting at his desk, on the computer at www.n-w.com:

haptic · \HAP-tik\ · adjective  
1 : relating to or based on the sense of touch  
2 : characterized by a predilection for the sense of touch

Mmmm....tactile. Nice. That one should come in handy. If he can figure out a way to use it in a conversation, that is.

Sigh.

It's not really too long after that, that they get rescued. Back to the Gate and for some odd reason, the Alpha Site. Where they still don't get anywhere near the inside a building, let alone home (where Jack could finally touch his highly stressed, extremely horny archeologist to both their heart's content) due to: a quarantine. Obviously, there's a pretty nasty bug or allergy or something flitting around both the Mountain and the Alpha Site; and until they figure out what's causing everyone to break out in itchy orange splotches, and make sure they aren't going to bring it home to the population of Colorado Springs, SG-1 will remain camping out at the Alpha Site. Staying far away from all the infected people, banging their heads against whatever solid structures they can find, and shoving bags of ice down the fronts of their pants.

And now, here they were. Back to "Mitigating Circumstances" and the breaking of rules. Sometimes you just had to do what you just had to do. The sounds of the marine's footsteps fade as he walks away and Jack pulls his hand away from Daniel's, slips over him, and slides a hand over his mouth. Daniel's eyes open but he makes no move besides nodding his head to let Jack know he's awake.

A knee slips between Daniel's legs as Jack leans down and touches those full lips with his own. The lips separate, and a slick tongue slides into his mouth, playing hide and seek with his own as they touch and pull away, rubbing and teasing each other, as their bodies begin to join in the fun. Daniel tilts his pelvis up slightly and swallows a deep moan from Jack as their groins rub against each other tantalizingly. Daniel has to break the kiss with a sharp gasp for air before he blacks out from lack of oxygen.

"God, Daniel, I've missed touching you." He whispers into Daniel's ear and almost can't hear the reply, it's so soft:

"I know. I've missed you, too."

Their mouths meet again, and Jack shifts slightly, putting all his weight on his left arm, freeing his right to squirm under Daniel's t-shirt, rubbing his belly sensuously and slowly working upwards, pulling the shirt with him to bare one tight nipple. He works it with his fingers to begin with, rubbing his thumb over it roughly, pulling it hard. Finally releasing Daniel's mouth, he latches his own mouth on that nipple - sucking hard, and Daniel has to let go of Jack's shirt where he's been tugging it up in the back, to clasp his hand over his own mouth before he yells out loud and alerts everyone to what's going on in their tent.

Both of them are breathing hard by this point. Jack thinks he's never been harder in his life, and wonders how he's going to manage to not scream out Daniel's name when he finally comes. Daniel pulls his head back up and their lips meet again, open mouthed and gasping into each other, their tongues fighting some crazy battle that he can't for the life of him understand, let alone try and figure out who's winning.

Their groins are pushing against each other frantically, two huge hardons both begging to get off, banging up against each other with absolutely no grace or symmetry, just the overpowering need for pressure and friction and heat. Daniel wraps his legs around Jack's waist, shifting his pelvis even more, and Jack pushes up on his arms and they find it - that's it - the pressure is perfect. The friction and heat overwhelming, and he knows he's not going to last much longer. Jack drops his head into the juncture of Daniel's neck and shoulder, gasping for breath, overwhelmed by the deep, musky scent of Daniel - grunting fiercely as he jerks his hips frantically into Daniel's, whose back is arched off the floor, one hand over his mouth again, the other clasped in Jack's hair, holding him tightly as he groans softly - long and low.

Jack can feel the groan rumbling inside Daniel's body, sparking hot and white in his own groin as it grows and builds until he can't see, can't hear anything except the roar in his ears as he jerks one final time and comes, shuddering, his hips moving convulsively, his whole body hard and stiff. He can't breathe for a moment before he suddenly remembers how, and gasps loudly - thankful that he's got his mouth buried in Daniel's neck to muffle the sound. He realizes through the fog in his brain that Daniel hasn't come yet and is still thrusting frantically against him. He takes a deep breath, moves his head down to that exposed nipple, and bites it - sucking it into his mouth as Daniel stiffens in his arms, moaning low - both hands covering his mouth at this point, as he shudders violently, takes a deep breath and collapses completely.

After a moment, Daniel's arms wrap around Jack's head, his face again buried in Daniel's neck, and they lie there for a while, gasping shallow breaths, shaking in each other's arms.

"Wow."

Jack doesn't raise his head to see for himself, but he gets the idea that Daniel is just as overwhelmed by the last few minutes as he is. Daniel reduced to one syllable words is a pretty good sign. He tries for something more expansive than Wow...thinking he can impress his favorite linguist with his command of the language, but unfortunately all he can manage is a garbled mishmash of vowels, with no consonants connected to them, that sounds something like "oueiayaouaa..." He ponders this for a second or two - but he can't make any sense out of it, and since he just doesn't have the attention span of a goldfish at the moment, he gives up and just lies there panting with his eyes closed. Trying to gather the strength to move. Yeah, that's it. That's what he's doing. Good idea.

When he wakes up, he has the feeling several hours have passed, but since he's lost all feeling in his arms, it's too much trouble to try and actually look at his watch and find out. It takes a huge effort on his part to roll off of Daniel, and he lies there panting afterwards, realizing that neither of them managed to get their boxers off for this event, and so unless he wants to lie here all night in wet underwear, he's going to have to move, eventually. Yuck. He lies there a few minutes, debating the issue. Is it really worth the effort? Can he fall back asleep with wet, slimy underwear clinging to his cold flesh? Could he actually work up the energy necessary to take them off and crawl into his sleeping bag? Good questions, all.

At this point, Daniel rolls over on his side, leans over and kisses him on the lips. Softly. Gently. That's so nice. He manages to gather enough energy to wrap one hand around the back of Daniel's neck. He even manages to open his eyes when the kiss is over. It's dark in the tent and he squints to make out the vague outline of a head and shoulders. What the hell. If it's not Daniel, he's in a shit-load of trouble already. He pulls the head back down to meet his lips. Sure tastes like Daniel, anyway.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How'ya doin?" Woah. He broke the one word barrier. Not bad for an old man.

"Wet, sticky and cold, but otherwise, I'm perfect."

"Yeah, me too." Better to stick to simple phrases - it's what he does best, after all.

There's another kiss next. Nice, but it's not helping with the wet, cold and sticky problem, so he manages to roll over and root through his pack - conveniently located for just this very moment. He pulls out two pairs of boxers, hands one to Daniel and starts wiggling out of his own clammy underwear, using the dry parts to wipe off his body. He then slips on the clean ones and turns back to Daniel.

"Hey, you're gonna need to take those other ones off before you put those on, you know."  
Daniel sighs. "Well, yeah, but that would entail moving, wouldn't it?"

"Um, yeah, I guess it would. (Pause.) You want some help with that?"

"That would be nice. I'd do it myself, but unfortunately, I've been dry-humped into oblivion, and I'm still not quite recovered. (Another pause.) Did you just snicker?"

"Um...maybe."

"Huh. Well, I guess that's better than a giggle."

Jack leans over and gives Daniel's lips his undivided attention for a long moment. "Is that better?"

"I guess so." He dismisses airily as he starts to wriggle out of his dirty underwear, but Jack's hand stops him.

"Here, let me." Jack pulls the shorts off quickly, wiping up any excess mess as he goes. Then lining up his feet he slowly pulls the clean underwear on, smoothing it down, then running his hands up Daniel's chest, and on up to his head again. One last kiss. Soft. Sweet. Tender, even. Whoa, better watch that. Can't have anyone thinking the hard-assed Colonel is turning into a softie in his old age. He helps Daniel settle into his sleeping bag then slides into his own. There's a sigh from the other bag. He reaches over and runs his hand down Daniel's face to stroke his jaw. Ok, this one will be the last kiss. "Don't worry. We'll be home soon. How long can this quarantine last?"

"From your mouth to God's ears." Daniel spontaneously turns into a Jewish mother.

"Hah. Which god would that be?"

"Any of them. All of them. Just you wait. Tomorrow you'll wake up surrounded by them, and don't come running to me for help. I'll just be waiting on the sidelines, while you argue with them about how long this quarantine can last." He rolls over onto his side, and pillows his head on his arm.

"Good night, Daniel."

"Night, Jack. Pleasant dreams."

Oh, yeah. They'll be pleasant, alright. He starts at the top and works his way down - cataloging all the things he intends to do to/with Daniel once he gets him home and in bed. Or in shower, or maybe across the dining room table, and don't forget the couch, and in front of the fire place...he drifts off, content in the knowledge that after the last couple of months, things couldn't possibly get any worse, could they?

Jack wakes up slowly in the morning, scratching compulsively at his chest. God, that itches! What the hell is that on his... He sits up suddenly and looks over at Daniel who is scratching frantically, covered head to toe with yellow and orange splotches and has begun to sneeze.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"


End file.
